


what if i told you i made it?

by bigmanaaron



Category: StarKid Productions RPF, The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Hospitals, Hurt Emma, Hurt Paul, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, autistic paul, but it's not really graphic or anything, i just want to give them a happy ending eventually OKAY, paul and emma survive the infection, paul is asexual, the helicopter crash, there is blood and such
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:33:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22522564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigmanaaron/pseuds/bigmanaaron
Summary: The last time Emma had seen Paul was when she choked up blood onto his face. Really cute. Absolutely not gross at all.Now, she is alive and out of Hatchetfield, and she needs to find out what happened to him.
Relationships: Paul Matthews & Emma Perkins, Paul Matthews/Emma Perkins
Comments: 35
Kudos: 113





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> HI!! Thank you for clicking on my fic! This is my first time attempting a multi-chapter fic, so wish me luck ahaha. I hope you enjoy!! <3

“ _ Byeeee… _ ”

Emma watched as Paul awkwardly speed-walked away from her and the helicopter crash site, grenade belt hanging off of his shoulder. What a fucking dork. Even in a situation where the safety of  _ the world _ lies on his shoulders, he’s still a huge dumbass. Emma let out a hiss of pain, a gross metallic taste coming up into her mouth.

Shit.

Emma looked down at her leg as blood dribbled from her mouth. She hadn’t really processed the last few minutes at all. The sight of the metal gruesomely lodged through her leg was starting to make her feel sick. It was agonizing.

And she was literally sitting in a pool of her own blood now.

Emma was beginning to feel lightheaded. Fuck.

She couldn’t go out like this. She couldn’t die in fucking  _ Hatchetfield _ of all places.

So, with a last effort of strength and adrenaline, she began dragging herself away from the helicopter, biting her tongue to stop herself from yelling out in pain. She didn’t want to alert any infected.

As she pulled and dragged herself away from the helicopter, she decided to stop for a moment by a large chunk of metal, trying to catch her breath.

And then a mangled, blue hand grabbed her foot.

Emma screamed and attempted to pull it away, only to meet eyes with no-one other than Zoey. The one who had crashed their helicopter in the first place.

What she saw was terrifying.

She barely looked like Zoey anymore. Blue ooze pooled out of her mouth and a horrifying grin stretched across her face. Emma felt like she was going to gag. Her eyes were glued to the helicopter blade impaled through the infected woman’s shoulder, blue blood gushing out of the wound.

Zoey opened her mouth, and began to sing as she dragged herself closer to Emma.

“It’s a cup of roasted coffee~”

_ Bang! _

Emma didn’t even think before she screamed and grabbed the nearby chunk of metal, immediately slamming it as hard as she could against Zoey’s skull.

Zoey dragged herself closer.

“Cup of roas-”

_ Bang! _

“Cup of-”

_ Bang! _

“Cuuuuuuh o-”

_ Bang! _

“Cuh. Cuuuuuhh..” Zoey began sputtering and twitching, her voice skipping like a broken record, “Coff- Of Rooastt.. Cu- Ro- Cof-”

_ Bang! _

Zoey dropped dead.

Emma didn’t realize it, but she was crying now. She grunted and pushed Zoey’s body off of her, and then began to continue dragging herself away from the crash site, tears rolling down her cheeks. She was so tired. Her pain only worsened with every movement she made. She just wanted to go to sleep.

She whimpered as she found a tree, and then propped her back up against it, closing her eyes. Her tears mingled with the blood on her face, and she took a deep breath. It wouldn’t hurt to take a short rest, would it..?

And just like that, she was out like a light.

**_______**

Beeping.

That was the first thing Emma heard. Beeping.

It was constant, and to be frank, it was starting to irritate her. She didn’t have an alarm set, so why was there beeping?

She groaned, and began to open her eyes.

Emma winced as she was met by bright ceiling lights. Did she forget to turn them off before she went to bed?

As her eyes adjusted, she realized that the room was not her own. 

And just like that, the memories of the apotheosis began flooding back into her mind.

The singing, the hive, the zombie aliens. All of it.

Fuck. 

She looked around the room, noticing the IV drip and heart monitor she was hooked up to.

Great. She hated hospitals. 

She paused, and then groaned as she began to feel a headache coming on. Just what she needed right now, in this amazing situation.

Emma was struggling to recall exactly  _ why _ she was in the hospital, until she tried to move her leg. She suddenly slapped her hand over her mouth and yelped, feeling pain shooting up through her thigh. 

Now she remembered what had happened.

Her and Paul- oh my god, Paul- had gotten onto a military chopper, and they thought they were safe! They thought they were going to get off the island, away from the infection! But then.. Zoey happened. There was a struggle, singing, and a gun, and before they knew it, the helicopter was going down.

Emma had gotten thrown out of the vehicle and impaled by a metal pole, smacking her head on the ground in the process. Paul said that there was a reason he had told her to wear a seatbelt. She smiled slightly at that. Paul was such an ass. Paul.. Paul had gone off to the starlight theater. He was going to destroy the meteor. What happened to him?

Judging by the fact that she was alive, and in a hospital, she could only assume that he’d succeeded.

Emma furrowed her brow. Was there even a chance that Paul was still alive? What if he had become infected? What had even  _ happened _ to the infected?? Oh my god, what if she sent paul to his fucking  _ death _ ??? As all of these thoughts rushed through her head, she heard a click as the door to the hospital room opened.

She looked up and saw as a young nurse holding a clipboard entered, her face seeming to light up as soon she realized that Emma was awake.

“Ah, Ms. Perkins! You’re awake!” The nurse smiled sweetly, “How are you feeling..? Did you just wake up? You’ve been out for three days, now.”

Three days? Jesus. She really had gotten fucked up. “I feel like shit.” Emma stated, rubbing her temples, “And yeah, I did. What… what happened? And, uh, where am I?” She questioned, attempting to sit up and ignoring the pain that came from doing so.

The nurse eased her back down, muttering something about it not being safe for her to sit up like that. “Oh, you’re in Clivesdale... St. Dominic’s hospital, to be specific.” Emma discreetly rolled her eyes at the response. Of course she had to be brought to Clivesdale of all places. “As of what happened, well...” The nurse seemed to pause for a moment, as if she was trying to find the simplest way to explain things, 

“I’m sure you remember the helicopter crash, right?” She asked, and Emma nodded in response. Her leg hurt just thinking about it. The nurse looked at her clipboard for a moment, “Well… they had to do an emergency surgery on you. For your leg, of course. You also fractured some ribs, and there was some internal bleeding. And a concussion.”

Emma only slightly listened to the nurse’s explanation, her mind wandering back to thinking about Paul. She couldn’t help but think about him after everything... what if he had survived? What would she even say to him, if he did? The last time she’d seen him was when she was delirious and had coughed blood onto his face. Kinda gross.

“Ms. Perkins?” Emma’s train of thought was interrupted by the concerned nurse. Emma shook her head to clear her mind, “Uh, sorry. I was just.. thinking. Do you know if anyone else made it out of Hatchetfield..?” 

The nurse seemed to pause, before shaking her head, a bit of a confused expression on her face. “No.. I’m afraid I don’t know. The news said that nobody survived- but that’s not my job to say. I need to run a quick checkup on you now, okay?”

Emma sighed, and then nodded. 

“Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!! I will try to post chapters every Friday or Saturday! any feedback would also be SUPER SUPER helpful!!! And yes, i KNOW this doesn't seem like much of a happily ever after yet, but I promise, we WILL get there. We've just got to get through the hospital, babeeyyy. Anyway, this fic is probably going to be very near and dear to me, so I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Are you infected? Do you like green fluffy dolls? Did you invent fire? Then go check me out on tumblr @hidgerins! I don't bite. I think.


	2. two

The rest of Emma’s day was… boring, to say the least. The most eventful thing was a doctor checking up on her and replacing the bandages on her leg, which hurt like a bitch by the way. 

She didn’t even have her phone anymore- it got destroyed in the helicopter crash- so she didn’t really have anything to do, besides try to talk to the hospital workers. 

Oh, and nobody knew anything about what had really happened in Hatchetfield. At all. Apparently, the coverup story was that the meteor caused a gas leak. One of the doctors had even said that there was  _ no way _ that she was rescued from there, because, apparently, everyone had fucking died! How fun is that!

She didn’t even know if Paul was alive.

At the moment, the signs pointed towards nope! That office dork is absolutely dead! Nonexistent. A ghost, maybe. If she was lucky. 

Earlier, she had asked the nurse if there was anyone named Paul in the hospital, and she had gotten a beautiful, “No.” as a response.

She really didn’t want to think of that anymore.

But most of all, she was just so  _ tired _ . She shifted a bit in the uncomfortable hospital bed, and then closed her eyes. Willing herself to try and get some sleep. She didn’t even know what time it was, but she could tell it was night, by glancing at the windows. 

It took a while, Emma managed to drift off to sleep.

It was short lived.

**_______**

Emma opened her eyes, finding herself laying down face-first in dull, fire singed grass. 

She pulled herself up with a grunt, looking around at her surroundings.

She saw the helicopter, torn and exploded into pieces. Blue ooze  _ everywhere _ .

It covered the helicopter blades, the metal, the dirt, and worst of all, her hands.

Emma grimaced.

Quickly, she turned around to get away from the sight, before letting out a yelp as she suddenly found a familiar face standing in front of her.

It was Paul. Grenade belt still wrapped around his shoulders. 

He was humming a song.

Emma screamed and fell backwards, scrambling to get away from him.

Paul took a step forward with his arms outstretched, staring down at her with a blank smile. Blue goo began to leak out from in between his teeth. 

Whatever this thing was, it wasn’t Paul. 

Paul was dead. 

“Get back, asshole!” Emma shouted, pushing herself back up to her feet, and then beginning to sprint away from him. .

Paul walked behind her.

He followed close behind, but he  _ walked _ . 

He chased after her, but he  _ walked _ .

_ And she had to run _ .

**_______**

Emma’s eyes shot open, her face coated in a sheet of sweat, and her breathing ragged. 

Shit, she was hyperventilating now.

She couldn’t even remember her nightmare anymore, but it was bad enough to send her into a panic.

She started to wipe the sweat off of her face, tears prickling in her eyes as she tried to calm down her breathing.

She couldn’t cry. Emma doesn’t cry. She’s strong, and strong people don’t cry after having a little nightmare. Not here, not now. 

She pushed back her tears, and then took a deep, shaky breath. Things were going to be okay. I mean, not  _ really _ . Things were definitely not okay, but it was easier to tell herself that they were.

Slowly, she began to calm herself down, her breathing becoming steady again, and her heart-rate going back to a normal pace.

She stared at the ceiling for hours before she could manage to fall back asleep

**______**

The next day was rather uneventful, nothing really happening.

And still no news about Paul.

_ And _ apparently, she wasn’t allowed to walk.

It would be too dangerous, according to her doctor. It could upset the wound in her leg, or the stitches or something. She’d also have to start physical therapy soon.

Being bed ridden was fucking boring.

She didn’t even know where she was going to go once she was out of the hospital. Maybe back to Guatemala, if she could pay off the hospital bills they’ll eventually give her. How  _ was _ she going to pay those off, anyway? She hadn’t even thought that far ahead.

Maybe, she could fake her own death. She died in Hatchetfield! Emma Perkins doesn’t exist. She’s gone. Yeah, that could probably work-

“Miss, uh, Kelly? You have a visitor”

Emma looked up, to see a nurse holding the door half open, brow furrowed.

“Um, my name isn’t Kelly-”

Emma was interrupted as a woman dressed in a certain black military uniform came into the room.

Oh god.

Oh fuck.

The uniform. Those people... they were infected. She had literally shot one of them, just four days ago.

Emma watched as the nurse left the room, leaving her completely alone with the military woman. 

She was so screwed.

Just as she was beginning to panic, the woman calmly approached her, except she _ actually spoke _ . Like a normal person.

“Hi there, Kelly. You can call me Colonel Schaffer... I have some things to go over with you.”

The woman smiled- not a cheesy, fake smile either, a normal one- and held out her hand for Emma to shake.

Hesitantly, Emma shook her hand, narrowing her eyes at the woman. “My name isn’t Kelly.”

“Oh yes, right. About that,” Colonel Schaffer paused. “Emma Perkins is dead. She perished in the Hatchetfield disaster, four days ago.”

“Wait, what? What the fuck?” Emma stuttered, sitting up. It hurt her ribs, but she could manage.

The Colonel sighed, “I know you’re more than aware of what happened four days ago in Hatchetfield. The aliens, the singing zombies. The infection.”

Emma winced at the mentions of the infection, but she let Schaffer continue.

“I am part of a top secret government organization. We go by P.E.I.P... And not a  _ peep _ about this conversation, either.” The Colonel winked. 

Emma rolled her eyes. 

“Our job is to clean up messes of... certain extraterrestrial origin. We thought that everybody in your town had been infected, so, we were very shocked to find survivors, let alone  _ two _ . Anyhow, we can’t have anybody making any connections to you, and Emma Perkins, a victim of the Hatchetfield disaster. As you may be aware the-”

“Wait a minute,  _ two _ ?! You’re telling me somebody else survived? Fucking  _ who _ ?!” Emma suddenly interrupted, accidentally raising her voice. Her heart began to beat faster. What if Paul actually  _ had _ made it out? 

“Calm down- we’ll get to that in a moment, Kelly.” Schaffer stated, not letting Emma even open her mouth before continuing with her explanation.

“As I was saying, you may be aware that the meteor that hit Hatchetfield was destroyed. If you didn’t know, well, now you do. We found a non-infected man by the meteor, who was... severely injured, to say the least.” The Colonel seemed to almost shudder at the thought of him, “We rescued him, and got him into a helicopter straight to this hospital. We weren’t able to identify exactly who he is, but he’s currently here. We’ve given him a new name, Ben Bridges.” Schaffer paused for a moment, “Also, on the topic of new names, we’ve decided on the name Kelly Gates, for you. You both will be placed in witness protection.”

Emma rubbed her temples, struggling to process all of the new information. Ben Bridges, Kelly Gates- why didn’t she get to pick her own name? That was such bullshit. But honestly, that was the least shocking news to her. Ben Bridges. Paul. They had found Paul.

“Paul! His name is Paul, um,” Emma paused. She never did ask him for his last name, did she? Great, now she felt bad. Emma shook her head.

“Paul, he- well- I sent him to destroy the meteor, after.. after the helicopter, a-and he fucking went there and he did it! Oh my god.” Emma stumbled over some of her words. She couldn’t believe it. She had been worrying over him like some sort of sap ever since she had woken up. “And he’s alive?? Fuck. I need to see him.” And at that, without any hesitation, Emma began trying to get out of her bed.

Colonel Schaffer held out a hand, gently pushing Emma back down. 

“That’s a negative, Kelly. I’ve already been informed that you aren’t able to walk.” Colonel Schaffer stated, narrowing her eyes at Emma.

“Okay, fuck you too then, I guess?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is an extra short chapter, but I already have the next one written and it's waayyy longer!! anyways, please don't hesitate to give me any feedback!! <3
> 
> Are you infected? Do you like green fluffy dolls? Did you invent fire? Then go check me out on tumblr @hidgerins! I don't bite. I think.


	3. three

Paul is a simple man.

He works at an office.

He likes coffee.

He enjoys movies.

He does  _ not like musicals _ .

And now, Paul’s entire body was being ripped into shreds.

He had pulled the pin. 

It was loud, and bright.

Paul was blasted back into the seats of the theater, screaming as he heard a sickening crunch from his ankle when he landed harshly on the ground.

The starlight theater instantly began to fall apart, the roof collapsing over the stage where the meteor had been.

He heard the horrifying screeches of the infected as he felt his flesh burn and melt.

He screamed as a piece of rubble fell from the ceiling, crushing his arm.

He screamed as he was in agonizing pain.

He screamed as he didn’t know what else to do anymore.

He couldn’t move.

His vision began to fade as he saw everything around him fall to pieces.

Paul was going to die.

In a musical.

**______**

Emma sat in her hospital bed, relaying the information the Colonel had given her a few hours ago in her head.

Honestly, she was still pissed about not being able to pick her own name- but that felt like the least important thing to worry about, at the moment.

Right now, Paul was in the hospital. The same hospital she was in. He could be in the room next to hers, for all she knew. 

And she was going to see him, if it was the last damn thing she did.

It was rather late now, and the activity in the hospital had dwindled. It wasn’t busy. It would be the perfect time to look for him.

Fuck what the doctor said. If Emma wanted to walk, then she was going to walk.

Emma pushed herself up into a sitting position, looking at the IV attached to her arm, and then ripping it out.

It hurt a bit, but it was nothing compared to what was about to come. 

She wiped a bit of blood off of her arm, and then stood up.

Holy.

Fuck.

It hurt. It hurt so badly.

Her bad leg immediately gave out from under her, and she grabbed onto the bed to stop herself from crumbling to the floor.

This was going to be a bit harder than expected. 

Emma took a deep breath, and held onto the bed as she attempted to take a step forward. 

She didn’t fall over, so she assumed that was progress.

Emma continued like that, taking small steps across the room while holding onto the bed, or walls, for support. 

Eventually she made it to the door, and now, it was time for the hard part. 

She had to find Paul without getting caught.

She peered through the door’s window for a moment, before pushing it open and limping out of the room.

There weren’t any hospital staff in sight, which was good. She looked down the hallway. All of the hospital doors were marked with patient names.

That would make her search a bit easier, at least. 

Slowly, she made her way down the hall, ignoring the intense pain that built up every time she stepped on her bad leg. She would just have to deal with it.

And as she turned a corner, she suddenly found herself face to face with a nurse.

Well. Not getting caught was short-lived, huh.

Emma let out a squeak, and mumbled an apology, but the nurse just seemed confused.

“What are you doing out of bed? Do you need help with something?”

He seemed young, and new. Like he hadn’t been working there for very long.

Actually, this was perfect.

Emma paused to gather her thoughts, straightening up her posture a bit, “Actually, yeah, I do need some help.” She stated, watching his face for a reaction.

He didn’t give one, so she continued, “I’m looking for a guy, um, Ben Bridges? Can you take me to him?” She questioned, putting on an innocent expression.

The nurse seemed to think for a moment, “Are you family?” He questioned.

“I’m his girlfriend.” Emma stated, with no hesitation, “Kelly Gates. Please, I just really need to know what happened to him after the accident.” She gave the nurse a pair of sad, pleading eyes, and he finally seemed to give in.

“I.. okay. Yeah. I guess I can take you to see him. He’s right down this hall, actually.” The nurse sighed, giving her a weak smile.

Emma gave him a  _ real _ smile, “Perfect.”

They made their way to the room, the nurse letting Emma lean on him as she walked. It was obvious he was uncertain about taking her to Paul, especially with how she could barely walk, but he didn’t say anything.

Emma’s heart was beating out of her chest.

The nurse opened the door with a click, and he politely held it open for Emma to enter.

And there he was. Laying on the bed, unconscious, and hooked up to hospital machinery.

Paul was barely recognizable.

He was practically covered head to toe in bandages, starting from his hands to his neck, and stopping before they could reach his face. 

Holy shit.

His face.

His face was swollen, bruised, and blistered, stitches holding a large cut on his cheek closed. A sheet of sweat covered his forehead. He probably had a fever. 

Emma limped to his side, tears threatening to build up.

She had sent him to blow up the meteor, and he really fucking did it.

And there were consequences.

Emma continued to stare at his face, and reached down to take one of his hands in her own.

Except there wasn’t a hand there.

Her eyes widened, and she looked down to his arm.

There wasn’t an arm.

From the elbow down, his limb was gone.

“Oh my god.” She whispered, placing a hand over her mouth.

Paul literally lost a limb for her.

She was in shock. It was hard to believe that it was really him, laying in front of her, missing an arm. He was Paul, but it barely seemed like it. 

He didn’t look like the dork she had known just a few days ago. 

Emma thought about how he had acted the day they first introduced themselves to each other. He was awkward. For sure. But, still, he was charming. And then the next day, he came into the coffee shop  _ yelling _ about a musical apocalypse. She hadn’t believed him at first, of course.

The nicest conversation she’d probably ever had was the one they had on the floor of Professor Hidgen’s lab.

God, he had the cutest smile whenever she spoke to him.

She didn’t realize, but a tear slipped down her cheek.

She really did send Paul to his doom when she told him to destroy the meteor, huh?

Emma suppressed a chuckle, wiping her eyes. He had saved the world.

And he survived. Barely. But he was there. He was laying in front of her.

She almost didn’t want to leave his side, but her leg was beginning to get more and more painful the longer she stood on it.

It was hard to pry her eyes off of him, but she managed to turn to the nurse. She hesitated, before speaking, “Is he.. how long is he going to be asleep?” She stuttered, voice a bit shaky.

The nurse paused, before moving to pluck a clipboard off of the front of his bed, skimming through it quickly, before looking back up at her, “He’s in a coma.” He explained.

Emma’s heart dropped.

Paul was in a coma.

That meant that nobody had any idea when he was going to wake up.

Emma rubbed her eyes. She couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty. “...Can you take me back to my room? My leg is killing me.” She questioned, leaning against Paul’s bed for support.

The nurse nodded in response, quickly putting the clipboard back in its original place, and then holding out an arm for Emma to take a hold of.

He helped her exit the room, and she took one last glance at Paul before they exited.

She still couldn’t believe how fucked up he had gotten.

How was he even going to react when he woke up?

Emma decided that she had to be there for him, whenever he did.

As she was lost in thought, she hadn’t really been keeping an eye on her surroundings. And suddenly, she found herself crashing into someone.

Immediately, her leg gave out and she slid to the floor, letting out a pained yelp. When Emma looked up, she met eyes with no-one other than Colonel Schaffer. 

The woman looked absolutely  _ pissed _ .

Emma was in shit now.

**______**

Colonel Schaffer paced angrily in front of Emma.

She shifted nervously in her hospital bed.

“Do you- do you know what could’ve happened, Kelly?” She questioned, voice stern.

“Colonel, I just wanted to see him-”

“That is not an excuse.” Schaffer hissed, pausing to take a deep breath, “You cannot just sneak out of your room like that. I nearly shut down the entire hospital.” She explained, attempting to regain her composure, “You  _ know _ what happened in Hatchetfield. You were there. When we found this room empty, with your IV detached, we could only assume the worst.” 

“Jesus, what did you think happened to me?” Emma questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“You could have been kidnapped, or infected.” The colonel began, “Or, simply, you could’ve gotten injured even further.” She crossed her arms, “You’re very lucky you are under government protection right now.”

Emma stayed silent. She absolutely did not regret leaving to see Paul, even if it did cause some trouble. Knowing that he was alive, and doing somewhat well, was all that she needed.

“I think we need to lay down some ground rules.”

Emma groaned like an annoyed teenager as soon as the words came out of the Colonel’s mouth.

“First of all, if you want to leave the room, then you need to ask somebody.” Schaffer stated.

“Mhm.” Emma nodded.

“And clearly, I’m not going to be able to stop you from seeing Mr. Bridges, so, yes. You will be allowed to visit him, but you will have to ask for permission first.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“You also should not be walking until the end of this week, according to your doctor. So you cannot leave until that’s approved.”

“Great.” Emma rolled her eyes.

“Do you understand, Kelly?” Schaffer questioned, looking at her with a scrutinizing gaze.

“Yep.” Emma answered blankly. She was not happy with the situation. 

“Good. I have other matters to attend to, but if you stick with these rules then I shouldn’t have to speak with you for a while.” The colonel explained, turning on her heel towards the door, “Oh, and Kelly, good luck with your recovery. I wish you the best.”

“Thanks.” Emma mumbled, watching as the woman left the room, leaving her alone.

The rules laid out were completely reasonable, but that didn’t mean Emma didn’t like being told what to do.

And she especially did not like being bed-ridden. And away from Paul.

She had to be there for him, after everything they had gone through.

She had to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you infected? Do you like green fluffy dolls? Did you invent fire? Then go check me out on tumblr @hidgerins! I don't bite. I think.


	4. four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma is recovering, and she's spending as much time with Paul as she possibly can.

Recovery is a long, hard, and  _ boring _ process. Especially when you’re bed-ridden with a barely functional leg. And you’re also in trouble with your doctor, and a military colonel, for sneaking out of your room when you definitely shouldn’t have. Emma was just really smart like that, you see. Sarcasm.

She got to spend the week doing literally nothing. She laid in bed, and watched whatever dull program was on the TV, as long as it didn’t involve music. Occasionally a nurse would come in to get her to exercise her limbs a bit. She would’ve killed to be able to just do nothing like that when she was still enrolled in community college, but right now? Nah.

She wanted nothing more than to see Paul again.

Emma asked about him every day, to whoever came into her room. Wanted to know if she could see him. Questioned how he was doing.

She always received the same answers.

No, you can’t see him until you can walk.

He’s still in a coma.

He’s getting better.

He’s still in a coma.

No, you can’t see him today.

_ He’s still in a coma. _

It was beginning to freak Emma out. How long was he going to be in a coma? What if he never actually did wake up? He’d already lost a limb. Who knows what else he could lose.

And then, what if he did wake up? What if she wasn’t there to be by his side when he did? She needed to be there when, or if, he does. 

She couldn’t even imagine what would happen when he woke up. 

How would he react?

Would he still be the same loveable dork she had known, not long ago?

It was a lot to think about.

**______**

Slowly, and agonizingly, the week of being left alone with her thoughts had finally passed. Emma had no clue how she got through it. It was literal hell, having nothing to do but think or watch TV.

Luckily though, earlier in the day her doctor had come in and explained some things to her.

Basically, now she was allowed to walk, but she had to do so with crutches. It was annoying, but at least it made it so she didn’t have to deal with the pain of putting weight on her bad leg. They did a bit of training with the crutches on, to figure out how to move easily, and then she was alone again.

Now, all she had to do was wait for a nurse to come into her room, and she could ask to go see Paul.

Emma hated waiting. It was all she had been doing for the past few days. She wanted to see Paul, she wanted to know how he was doing, and she wanted to be there for him, but she couldn’t. Schaffer’s rules.

She ran a hand through her hair, and then groaned. How long was this going to have to go on for?

As if on cue, she heard that signature clicking noise as the door to her room opened.

One of her usual nurses walked in, and began with their standard routine. Checking how Emma was doing, making sure she’d been eating properly, and getting her to stretch out her legs a bit. 

Emma sat up, and reached for her crutches, “So, um. I was wondering if I could visit P- I mean Ben, today?” She questioned, giving the other woman a sweet, innocent smile.

The nurse seemed to think for a moment, before beginning to nod, “Actually, yes, I think you might be able to today. You’re up and walking again, and he’s in a stable enough condition, so… yes! That’s completely okay.” She explained with a gentle smirk.

Emma’s face lit up, and she quickly stood up with her crutches under her arms, “Oh my god, thank you so, so much. I’m going to head there right now.” She decided quickly, not leaving much room for argument, “Bye.” Immediately, she crutched herself out to the door without letting the nurse say anything else. 

Emma knew where to go, and she was going there as soon as humanly possible.

She made her way down one of the many hospital hallways, and stopped at room 305, labeled with the name Ben Bridges.

Huh. Kelly Gates, and Ben Bridges. Why were they both named after architecture? Weird.

Emma turned the doorknob, and opened the door, and there he was. Alone.

Everyone they had known really did die in Hatchetfield, huh? No visitors for either of them.

That was kind of sad, actually.

She hobbled over to his side, and leant down a bit to brush some hair out of his face. He was looking much, much better from the last time she had seen him.

His face wasn’t swollen anymore, and the blisters and stitches had been healing rather quickly. The most shocking thing, though, was that most of the bandages that had covered his body were gone, showing sickly, scabbing burns that covered large patches of his skin.

They were deep, and they looked painful as hell. 

Emma frowned, and began to move and drag a chair over to sit next to his bed. She removed her crutches and leaned them against her chair, and then continued to look over Paul. 

She was going to stay in this room for as long as they’d let her, and that was a fact.

Emma reached over, and brushed her hand against the stump of Paul’s amputated right arm. He was much worse off than she was. Emma was lucky her leg didn’t have to be amputated, especially with how bad it had been. 

She was grateful for that.

Paul would most likely have to re-learn how to do everything, if he had been right handed. She really hoped he wasn’t. That would be even more hell.

Her eyes trailed down to Paul’s legs, and she noticed something she hadn’t noticed the first time she’d seen him. Under the bed covers, his left foot seemed to stick out, and she realized that he had a cast on that foot. 

Yikes.

Looks like both of them are going to have some walking troubles.

Emma sighed, and brought her attention back up to his chest, watching as it moved up and down with each breath he took. Paul was alive, and he was getting better.

Maybe soon, he’d wake up.

Emma leaned back in her chair, and sighed. She’d have to stay by his side all the time, if she wanted to be there when he did. 

She was okay with that.

Emma closed her eyes, and relaxed.

Maybe things will get better.

Or maybe not.

Only time will tell.

**______**

The next few days went by as you'd expect. Emma spent most of her time by Paul’s side, watching him as he got better, and continuing to wait for him to wake up. 

She’d also been getting more practice with walking, though it was still very, very painful without the crutches. Her leg had really gone to shit after being impaled.

Colonel Schaffer had also been talking to her, and about her future in witness protection. They were in the process of getting her the deed to some land and a house Colorado. She should have been released from the hospital days ago, but at the moment there was nowhere to send her.

She just hoped that Paul would wake up in time for them to go to Colorado together. She wouldn’t be able to stand being separated from him. Not now. Not after everything they had been through.

Emma pushed open the door to Paul’s hospital room, and took her usual seat by his side, putting a hand on his amputated arm.

His wounds were healing quickly, and all of the bandages that had been around his burns were gone. He was getting much healthier, despite the fact he’d been unconscious for the entire process.

God, she just wished he’d wake up.

She was so lonely.

Maybe, she could actually try talking to him. That was a thing that somewhat helps people in comas, right?

Emma took a deep breath.

“...Hey, Paul.”

She watched him for a reaction, as if he would magically wake up by hearing his name.

Obviously, that wasn’t happening.

“So. I’ve been doing better lately.” She began, “Basically, I got weirdly lucky for someone who was impaled by a metal pole.” She chuckled softly, “I can walk, but I still need the crutches. The muscles in my leg got really fucked.”

Emma paused, and then sighed.

“I really miss you, Paul.” She bit her lip, “It’s been two weeks. I know you’re asleep, and you probably can’t hear me, but I miss you. I want you to get better.”

She shook her head, “Things are looking really rough for you too, y’know. Your arm is gone.” She shifted in her seat, “And those burns… those have to be permanent scars, for sure. Damn.” She brushed her hair out of her face, and scooted her chair a bit closer to him.

“I just really hope you wake up soon, Paul. You saved the world. The least you could do is be conscious.” She smiled slightly, and placed her hand on his arm again.

“You can do it.”

As soon as she finished speaking, she was given a bit of a surprise as the hospital door suddenly opened, and Colonel Schaffer entered, walking alongside a doctor.

Emma raised her eyebrows, instantly bringing her attention to them, “Hey guys.” She greeted, lazily raising up a hand and waving it slightly.

Colonel Schaffer narrowed her eyes at Emma, and then brought her attention to Paul. 

“How is he recovering?” She questioned, moving to stand at his side.

The doctor plucked the clipboard off of the front of Paul’s bed. 

“He’s doing very well. He’ll most likely wake up in the next couple of days, if the coma isn’t worse than we think.” He explained, skimming through the information on the clipboard.

Emma bit her lip to stop herself from interrupting. Paul was going to be waking up soon. That was really, really good news to her.

“That’s good.” The Colonel nodded, staring down at the comatose man, “We’re wanting to have him and Kelly in Colorado by the end of the month. Is that going to be possible?” She questioned, turning her gaze to the doctor.

He seemed to think for a moment, before giving her a small shrug. “It depends on when he wakes, and how his memory does. We didn’t detect any brain damage in our scans, but you can never be too sure.” He explained, “In the best case scenario, he should be able to go by the end of this month, yes.”

Emma listened to their conversation intently, leaning forward in her seat. Why hadn’t anyone told  _ her _ this information?

The doctor placed a hand on Paul’s forehead, “You know, Colonel, surviving an explosion like that is a huge feat. I think Ben here is a very, very strong man.” He explained, “Once he wakes up, I think it’s going to be a very fast recovery.”

The Colonel smiled, and nodded, “Good, good. This should work out, then.”

Emma moved her gaze back to Paul, and narrowed her eyes at him.

Something seemed different, but she just couldn’t figure out what it was. It almost looked like he had moved while she wasn’t looking, but there was no way that would’ve happened.

Right?

Suddenly, his arm twitched under her hand, and she widened her eyes. 

This was new.

Paul’s brow furrowed, as if he was in pain, or thinking really hard about something.

Emma’s stomach dropped, not daring to move her hand from his amputated arm.

“Ah- hey, guys? I hate to interrupt, but I think he might be waking up.” Emma announced, a small smile beginning to spread across her face.

Finally.

She had been waiting for this moment for what had felt like forever.

The doctor and the Colonel both looked extremely shocked, and immediately brought their attention to Paul.

He groaned.

It was quiet, but he had actually made a  _ noise _ .

He began to stir.

Emma tightened her grip on his arm. A bit too much, actually.

It must have hurt him.

Paul’s eyes shot open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI!! I really really hope you all enjoyed this chapter. It's a bit shorter than usual, but that's because I just REALLY wanted to be mean and end it on a cliffhanger. I'm also very, VERY busy with rehearsals, so I'm hoping to have the next chapter written and posted by Friday. I'll just have to find the time to write it. once again, all feedback is SUPER helpful and encouraging and just... thank you so much for reading!!!
> 
> (I've also realized that I've been using way too many spaces to separate paragraphs so I'm trying to fix that issue as well ahahah)
> 
> Are you infected? Do you like green fluffy dolls? Did you invent fire? Then go check me out on tumblr @hidgerins! I don't bite. I think.


	5. five

Crumbling. Screaming. Music. Awareness. Pain.

Crumbling.

Metal beams and poles fell apart and slammed to the ground in front of him.

Screaming.

He screamed as his flesh burned and melted.

Music.

The music was gone.

Awareness.

Paul began to feel again.

It was bright.

It was too bright.

He groaned.

Everything hurt.

Pain.

_ Pain _ .

He felt a sharp, intense pain flare up on his arm.

Paul gasped, and shot his eyes open.

What happened next, would probably be the most overwhelming moment of his entire life.

He was met by blinding lights, and immediately shut his eyelids tightly again, unable to adjust to it. His ears began to ring to the point where it was deafening, and he wondered, for a moment, if he had died.

And then the pain settled in again, flaring up as he attempted to move from the lying position he was in. It felt like he was on a bed. He definitely had not died. Where even was he?

There was a hand on one of his arms. Slowly, he forced his eyes back open, struggling to get his vision to focus as he tried to see who was touching him. Strangers touching him was a  _ big _ thing he hated, after all. 

Paul’s stomach dropped.

Emma.

Memories suddenly flooded their way back into his brain, and he began to feel panic settle into his chest. All of his friends had died, and he had seen it happen right in front of his eyes. He had seen their blood change from red, to blue. He had seen and heard how horrifying all of the infection’s songs were. He had seen everything that could possibly go wrong, well, go wrong. And then there was the helicopter- and the starlight theater- and the grenade- and  _ oh god _ . He had let it out.

He had been infected.

Paul began to hyperventilate as the realization struck him. He was dangerous. Emma shouldn’t be near him. Paul hated musicals, but he had still been forced into one in the end. He couldn’t hurt her, not after how far they had made it.

He was wheezing now, tears filling his eyes as he attempted to shrink back and get away from the three faces that were staring down at him. He wanted nothing more than to just stop existing. 

Maybe he was in hell.

“Wha- Paul, hey, calm down?”

It was Emma’s voice. His vision was very blurry from tears, but he managed to look at her. She seemed like she was at a loss for words.

Paul opened his mouth to speak, only to think twice about it, and instead reached up to put a hand over his mouth.

Somehow, he managed to miss his mouth entirely. Weird. He reached up with his left hand instead, and clamped it over his lips. Now it was even harder to breathe than before, but that was okay. As long as he wasn’t able to sing, or hurt anyone, then it was okay.

Everything would be okay.

Okay.

“Okay.” He blurted out, before tightening his hand even more on his mouth. He was still hyperventilating, but now his eyes were beginning to focus, and he could finally make out his surroundings now. He was in a white, medical looking room. 

He looked to his left, and saw an older man, attempting to say something to him. Paul couldn’t make out the words, but he could see the attire he was wearing. A doctor’s coat.

Oh.

He was in a hospital. 

He had never been in a hospital before, until now.

Paul gulped. His throat was so dry. When was the last time he had drank any water? The last thing he remembered drinking was some alcohol in Hidgen’s lab.

How long ago did that even happen, anyway? It was yesterday, wasn’t it? 

Maybe not.

The ringing in his ears began to subside as Emma continued to try and calm him with her words. She seemed like she was afraid to touch him now, as if he’d crumble to pieces if she so much as laid another hand on him again. But Paul wasn’t going to crumble, actually.

In fact, he was getting a bit tired of crumbling. 

He needed to calm down.

Maybe, he wasn’t infected anymore. He didn’t hear any music, did he? There was no chorus in his head, or a hivemind of aliens breathing and moving in unison. No blue spores in the air, or blue goo, or blue blood. Nothing.

He was safe. He had to be. Emma was there, so of course he was.

He took a deep, shaking gulp of air, and soon enough, he was breathing normally again. Everything was going to be okay. 

Okay. 

Okay.

Finally, he took a moment to really look at the three people that were standing by his bedside. Emma was there, of course. But there was also the older looking man- a doctor, he assumed, and a woman in a military uniform.

A P.E.I.P uniform, actually. Fuck.

If only he could speak. At the moment, he felt like that would literally be an impossible task to complete. He couldn’t help but feel panicked again in the presence of a P.E.I.P member. The last time he’d seen anyone from there, they were infected.

Paul paused, and took another deep breath, attempting to calm his thoughts.

The doctor’s face seemed to soften as he watched Paul calm down a bit.

“How are you feeling, Ben?”

Ben? Who’s Ben?

Paul stared at the doctor, furrowing his brow. Was he supposed to respond to this? His name, obviously, isn’t Ben, but-

“He’s talking to you.” Emma interrupted Paul’s train of thought, staring at him a bit quizzically.

Oh. Okay. He’s Ben now, apparently. Paul opened his mouth, but no noise came out. Great. He really was going nonverbal now. Knowing that he couldn’t speak, he instead shook his head in response.

“Ah… okay. Are you saying you don’t feel good?” The doctor questioned.

Paul paused to process what the man had said, before nodding.

His eyes drifted over to the woman in the P.E.I.P uniform, and he watched as the doctor stared at him for a moment, before moving over to whisper in the woman’s ear. The two seemed to whisper back and forth with each other for a minute, before the doctor turned back to look at Paul again.

“Since I understand that you, uh, don’t want to speak right now. I’ll explain what’s happened to you, while you were in a coma.” The doctor began, picking up a clipboard and flipping over a page.

Coma? He had been in a coma? Jesus christ. How long had he been out?

“As a result of the…” The doctor squinted at his clipboard, “...grenade blast, parts of your body were severely burned. We’ve done as much as we can to make sure your skin heals properly, but there’s going to be a lot of scarring.”

Well. That explained the bandages, and why his entire body felt like hell. Good to know.

“You also suffered a severe concussion, along with some broken ribs, and your left ankle was sprained.” The doctor paused, and took a deep breath, as if he was about to give him some even worse news. But nothing could really get worse than all of this, right? 

Well, he was wrong. 

The doctor frowned, “...But, Mr. Bridges, as a result of the grenade blast, and a metal beam that had fallen and pinned you… we had to amputate your right arm. I’m very sorry.”

Paul’s stomach dropped.

Slowly, he moved his eyes to look down at his right arm.

It wasn’t there.

Shit.

It was cut off at his elbow, his skin red and unnatural at the area where it had been removed. Along with that, dozens of burn scabs seemed to reach up the arm, mostly stopping at around his shoulder.

How- how could this happen? It still felt like the rest of his arm was there. He could’ve sworn he had used those fingers earlier. 

What the fuck?

Paul was absolutely mortified.

This was all too much. Everything was changing too quickly. He didn’t like this, not one bit.

He saw a hand gently place itself down on his amputated arm, and as he looked up, he realized it was Emma, staring down at him with a concerned expression across her face. She just looked so upset. Clearly, he wasn’t the only one who was struggling with this.

She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, struggling to find the correct words. What do you even say, in a situation like this?

“...It’s going to be okay, Pa- Ben. Okay?” She assured him, closing her eyes for a moment.

Paul took one last deep breath, and then nodded.

“Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. Hello. I am. SO. SORRY. I've been very, very very busy, and I had a hard time finding time or motivation to sit down and write this. BUT! I'm on spring break now, so hopefully I'll be writing a lot more!! Like always, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and just. AAAHHH. PAUL. MY BOY. I LOVE HIM. And, I forgot to include this in the tags (will definitely be adding it dw) but Paul is ABSOLUTELY autistic!
> 
> Are you infected? Do you like green fluffy dolls? Did you invent fire? Then go check me out on tumblr @hidgerins! I don't bite. I think.


	6. six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul is dealing with everything after having finally woken up a few days ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW FOR EMETOPHOBIA!

It had been a few days since Paul- or Ben- or whatever they were calling him now- woke up from his coma.

Everything was really,  _ really _ hard to adjust to.

He was completely bed-ridden, for the time being. Emma kept him company as much as she could, though, which actually made pretty much everything ten times better if he were being honest.

In fact, she was sitting right by his bedside right now, looking a bit bored.

Paul hated this fact, but he was a  _ very _ bad conversationalist. He felt awkward, and anxious in most social situations. This fact was still true, right now. Emma had tried starting up a conversation multiple times, but they always died with him.

He was trying, really, but everything was just… weird. They both knew what they had gone through. Hatchetfield. The apotheosis. But they didn’t talk about it, because how could they? How could they talk about how their entire lives were changed- no,  _ destroyed _ ? 

It was like an unspoken rule between the two.

Don’t talk about what happened. Don’t talk about music, or singing, or theatre. Don’t talk about aliens. Don’t talk about their dead friends. Don’t explain  _ anything _ about what happened at the meteor.

Just… don’t talk about it.

Paul tried to move his right arm, to give emma a tap on the leg- until he realized that no, he did not have much of a right arm, anymore. Right.

He hadn’t been coping very well with that, either.

It was like a phantom arm. He could swear he could still feel it, like he could still move those fingers, that he could bend and use his elbow and have, well, an arm. But he didn’t. Right in front of his eyes, was his amputated stump.

It had been his dominant hand too. Paul was kind of fucked, in that regard.

“You good? Uh, Ben.” Emma interrupted his thought process, hesitantly.

Paul hadn’t realized how  _ tense _ he was, until Emma had spoken. She probably wasn’t even aware of it, but Emma just had this weird power to pull him out of all of his spirals. To calm him down, without even trying. Just having her there with him, made him feel a little less alone.

“Oh.” Paul looked at her, and immediately felt his face soften, “Yeah, I’m just… thinking. That’s all.” He muttered, “Sorry.”

Emma raised an eyebrow at him, “Really, Paul. You apologize too much.” She then paused, realizing her slip-up, “Uh, I mean Ben.” She chuckled, softly.

“Sorry- wait, shit.” Paul then laughed a bit, ignoring the pain it caused him in his ribs. Really, his bones just all  _ hurt _ . So much. “Um… Em- Kelly? Ugh, c-can we just drop the name thing?” He stammered, and just received a shrug in response from her. “Anyway, uh, yeah. I just wanted to tell you, uh…” Paul trailed off, finding himself at a loss words.

There his terrible conversation skills go, again.

It was so hard to talk in front of people he liked.

“I just… really appreciate you.” He shrugged, and then instantly regretted the movement as ripples of pain went through his shoulders, “Ow okay- um, It’s just… after, you know, everything? We stuck together. We’re still here and it’s really amazing, Emma. It really is.” Oh fuck, why was he talking about  _ their one forbidden subject?! _

Emma seemed to think over his words, before a soft smile found its way onto her face. For some reason, seeing that little smile just gave him the nicest fuzzy feeling in his heart. Maybe the subject wasn’t too cursed?

“I think so too.” Emma placed her hand on his arm, “I really can’t believe we both got out alive.” She then paused, “Well, barely.” She chuckled darkly, and gestured to, well, him in general.

Yeah, that was fair.

“I got screwed up, didn’t I?” Paul smiled, and then began to feel a strange tightness in his lungs. “It’s just really-” His breath caught in his throat as he suddenly began to cough violently, struggling to catch his breath. 

It felt like he needed to hack something up, or puke. What the fuck?

“Wh- Paul? Wait, shit, are you okay?” Emma moved closer to him, her hands hovering over his chest as if she wasn’t exactly sure what to do.

Paul reached up with his good arm and attempted to cover his mouth with his hand as he continued to cough and wheeze, until, finally, he felt something choke it’s way up through his throat.

His breathing was ragged as he lowered his hand to see what it was that he had coughed up.

Oh.

Okay.

He felt his entire being go into shock as he stared at the blue shit that now covered his palm. He didn’t move, he didn’t blink, he just stared. 

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t fucking do this. Not again. No.

“Paul? wha- oh my god.” The absolute terror in Emma’s voice made Paul’s heart thump rapidly. “No, no, no, no, that can’t- Fuck. I’m gonna go get the colonel, or  _ someone _ or-”

“Emma.” Paul looked at her desperately, tears welling in his eyes, “I-I can’t do this again.” 

Emma looked at him, and then back at the blue shit on his hand with a panicked expression, “I know, I know you can’t- fuck!” She stomped her foot on the ground before standing up and quickly grabbing her crutches, “I’ll be right back. I promise. Don’t fucking go anywhere, I swear to god.”

Paul’s entire body trembled as he watched her quickly storm off and out of the hospital room. He hadn’t thought that he was still infected. He had just assumed the grenade had knocked it all out of him, or something, but- there it was. The goo. It was right there, staining the palm of his hand and beginning to drip onto the white bedsheet.

He felt like he was going to puke.

_ Let me puke in your mouth, Em~ _

No! No, no, no, no, fuck no. No, he couldn’t- he wasn’t going to think in lyrics again. He wasn’t going to do that. No way in hell, no.

He didn’t want to hear rhymes, or the thrum of the beat to a song, or the hivemind living and breathing inside of his brain.

He hadn’t felt that at all since the meteor.

No.

He could hear the beat of a song trying to drum weakly into his ears.

Fuck.

Paul was going to be absolutely fucking sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhhhh heyyy guys. it's been a while. i'm SO SORRY for just leaving you all hanging. i cannot guarantee that i'll keep updating after this chapter but i REALLY REALLY want to try my best to keep working on this. seriously i am SO SORRY for not updating. i lost my tgwdlm hyperfixation, but this fic idea was so near and dear to my heart that i really wanted to keep working on it. i stg i'll try to keep up with it. this whole chapter was written at 4 am as well so if it makes no sense then... schwoopsie.
> 
> thank you ALL for your support, and for reading ANY of this lmaooo. seriously, it means the world. now i get to leave you in suspense with this chapter... ;-))
> 
> comments, kudos, and any feedback/suggestions are super appreciated!
> 
> Are you infected? Do you like green fluffy dolls? Did you invent fire? Then go check me out on tumblr @hidgerins! I don't bite. I think.


	7. seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma tries to find some help for Paul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ////ANOTHER TW FOR ANYONE WITH EMETOPHOBIA!!!!

Paul just coughed up blue shit.

Paul just coughed up blue shit.

Paul just coughed up blue shit.

Something was  _ really not right _ . This was not good.

Not good at all.

Emma grabbed her crutches, explained that she was leaving, and then got out of the hospital room as quickly as possible.

Someone had to be able to help, right?

Fuck.

She couldn’t- she didn’t even know  _ why _ this was happening. Paul had never been infected, right?

Right?!

She didn’t actually know what had happened down at the starlight theater. Maybe… maybe he was? Or had been?

She shook her head, trying to get the thoughts out of her mind. That wasn’t important right now. What _ was i _ mportant, was to try and find help for him.

She speedily crutched her way down the hallway, until she finally found herself running into a doctor. It was actually Paul’s doctor, to her luck. At least one thing had gone right today.

“Ah- Miss Gates? What’s going-” He began to speak, but Emma quickly interrupted him.

“I need Colonel Schaeffer. _ Now _ .” She stated, aggressively. Her heart was pounding. “This is an emergency.”

He looked weirdly intimidated by her, despite her unimpressive height of 5’2, and the fact that she was stuck on crutches.

“Oh.” He took a step back, and then looked at his watch, “Okay, I’ll… go get her.”

She watched as he turned around and quickly sped off into the opposite direction, to hopefully get the Colonel as soon as possible.

Now, Emma had to wait.

She was starting to get tired of waiting. All the time. It seemed like that was all she had been doing for the past month.

She thought for a second about going back to Paul’s room, but… if she were being honest, she was afraid. Afraid of him being infected.

It was Paul, she trusted him! She really did, but… she really didn’t want to be left alone with him if he was like  _ that _ . He hadn’t said anything about singing, or music, or theatre, but the blue goo that was choked out from his mouth was enough. She wasn’t going to risk it.

So she stood in the hallway, and she waited.

It had only been a few minutes, but it really had felt like hours before the Colonel came rushing towards her.

“Kelly? What’s happening?” Schaeffer questioned, and Emma noticed that she actually seemed legitimately worried, and out of breath.

“Paul just puked up blue shit- I don’t know why- but he did, and I’m freaking the  _ fuck _ out.” Emma was breathing quickly now. She was starting to panic.

“He  _ what _ ?!” Schaeffer raised her voice as her eyes widened. Emma felt herself shrink back a bit from her. “Why would you just leave him alone in there? Shit.” Schaeffer took off in a run down the hallway, not even trying to match Emma’s pace.

So it really was serious, huh. Really, really, serious.

Emma crutched herself behind Colonel Schaeffer as quickly as she could, but she still got to the room a few seconds later than the Colonel.

Emma’s stomach dropped when she saw Paul.

He was sitting up, hyperventilating, and letting thick tears fall down his face as blue goo was dripping, and dripping, and dripping from his mouth. Landing onto his bedsheets and staining them.

Emma watched as Schaeffer quickly slipped some medical gloves onto her hands, and then went to Paul’s side. She grabbed his wrist to examine the blue shit on his hand, and strangely enough he didn’t object to it. Emma knew how much Paul hated it when he was touched by someone he didn’t know very well.

This entire interaction hurt to watch. Paul crying and muttering things under his breath, Schaeffer holding his arm with a death grip, and the disgusting goo that was still dripping out of his mouth.

“I-I can hear music…” Paul whimpered, and then Emma noticed as the blue shit started to leak out of his nose too. Fuck. Shit. This was not good. This was really really bad. 

Why was this happening? Why now? Why did it take so long for the infection to even show up in him? What the fuck?

Could this happen to her?

“I need to get the both of you to PEIP.” Schaeffer decided loudly, finally dropping Paul’s wrist. He immediately moved it up to his mouth, in a shitty attempt to stop the infection from leaking out of his orifices. “Immediately.”

“Wha- why? You’re not going to hurt him, right?” Emma scrunched up her face, “Because I swear to god if you can’t fix this-”

“Don’t worry. I’m going to fix this.” Schaeffer took a few steps back, “We have an… experimental cure, in the works. It hasn’t been tested on any of  _ them _ yet, but I think this might be our only shot.” She sighed, pulling out one of those weird military radios.

“Wait- are there still infected people out there?” Emma questioned, not taking her eyes off of Paul. It didn’t seem like he could hear either of them anymore. “I-I thought they all died with the meteor?”

Schaeffer sighed, “This is… technically classified information, Kelly. But that isn’t  _ exactly _ what happened.” She paused to bark some orders into her radio, before finally turning to Emma to continue, “The explosion weakened those bastards a lot. Killed quite a few of them too, but… we’re still struggling to diminish the population. If I had it my way, we wouldn’t be capturing and curing all of them. They’d be dead, because they’re monsters, but-” Schaeffer frowned, and turned to look at Paul, “I’m starting to change my mind on that.”

“Oh… okay.” Emma muttered, watching Paul. He was still freaking out- and he seemed to be getting worse and worse every second that passed. She wanted to go to his side, to comfort him, to  _ help _ him, but she knew it was a bad idea. She didn’t want to come into any contact with his blue shit. She couldn’t risk it.

“Can you set up that wheelchair, Kelly? We need to get him out of here. Immediately.” She stated, gesturing to a shitty folded up hospital wheelchair that was against the wall, “We’re going to get him in it, and wheel him out to one of our trucks out back. I will have my co-workers inform the hospital staff on what’s happening.”

Paul started humming for a moment, before letting out a loud whimper of a, “No.”

“R-Right, right. I’m on it.” Emma stuttered, and began to set up the wheelchair with trembling hands, letting go of her crutches for a bit. She was really, really scared. She hadn’t been this scared, since, well… the helicopter crash.

She could’ve died that day.

But right now? Her attention needed to be on Paul, not her… trauma, or whatever it was. That was a problem for another day.

She finished setting up the wheelchair, and quickly rolled it up to Paul’s bedside. As she approached him, Paul suddenly turned to look at her, desperately. 

There was so much fear in his eyes.

“ _Emmmaaa_ ~”

Emma recoiled the second she realized he was singing a note. He was  _ singing _ . He would’ve never wanted this. Never.

“Em- _Emmaa_ ~” He reached out for her, and she took a few steps backwards. She couldn’t be too close to him.

“Paul, no.” Emma shook her head, “We’re gonna help you, okay?”

“ _Heeelpp_ ~” Tears rolled down his cheeks, and Emma couldn’t look at him anymore. This was genuinely horrifying.

“I’m so sorry, Paul.” Emma frowned, staring at the floor.

Emma felt Colonel Schaeffer place a hand on her shoulder, and she immediately flinched. Fuck.

“I’m going to need your help with getting him in there.” Schaeffer stated, “Are you ready?”

Emma took a deep breath.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so.... yeah. shit's hitting the fan, huh?? there will most likely be a delay in posting the next chap, because i now have an absurdly busy schedule for the next month hahaa
> 
> comments, kudos, and suggestions are super super appreciated!! give me your feedback!!
> 
> Are you infected? Do you like green fluffy dolls? Did you invent fire? Then go check me out on tumblr @hidgerins! I don't bite. I think.


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